This piece was recently sent to me by Suman Bakshi. Let us know how you feel about tradition and virtue:
The other day I wondered
about statements being made by various people through my life. Statements delivered
with a certain pomposity and finality. ‘Wear a sari, it’s traditional, it's good and
what Indians look best in and …what is done’, ‘This is the only way to cook the
Chitraput Saraswat or Kashmiri food ’, ‘This is how we celebrate Diwali and we must
decorate the thali exactly like this’, this is how this was done always.’ In short,
‘Do all this and you are a good girl’!
Now in my fifties, I wonder who
in the world it was who designed the sari, or created Saraswat cuisine, or
decided that Diwali celebrations would be with sweets, fireworks and cards? The
inventor would probably be over the moon that his one idea has stood the test
of time over centuries! The seal on invention for Saraswat or Kashmiri cuisine
has been closed for future inventive Kashmiri or Saraswat chefs! No doubt the
sari was creativity at its best… scintillating, vibrant and beautiful. And
kudos to the designer! Just maybe it was not one inventor and all this evolved
and became eventually the sari, the cuisine, the festival. But most certainly
the evolution has languished to a halt! It’s not that I don’t love the feel of
a soft sari drape around me or the fragrance of agarbatti and the peace of
sitting at my pooja corner. It is the label of virtue attached to a person who abides
by convention without looking beneath it, that irks me. Most of us don’t know
why we exactly stick to certain conventions, how they came about or what it
means. We follow them with a certain smugness as if it makes us virtuous by
just doing them. Are we confusing tradition with goodness and virtue? Do we
care about what is really important like kindness or gentleness or generosity
or honesty or sincerity or a passion for life? The zeal to toe the line, play
safe, find approval and fit in with the ‘pack’ creates a certain mindlessness
and powerlessness, an inability to see through to the person inside carefully
cloaked in tradition.
Some people who I had the
good fortune to have in my life, who stepped out of the box, like Roopa, who wore
trousers to weddings much to the exasperation of the conventional community.
She was the kind of person who would give the last shirt she owned to a person
in need and has helped scores of desperately unhappy people with her counseling
skills, bringing them ‘back to life’, without charging a rupee. If she was more
comfortable wearing trousers to a sari, so be it! Then there was my young maid
Helen who smiled and laughed through all her problems (which were gargantuan,
believe me). She loved my kids and us like we were family and brought so much
life and laughter into the home. She was Catholic but like a happy little
beaver she threw herself into the decorations for our Gokulashtami Pooja, painting
the diyas, ardently making a beautiful cradle with her own hands and a lovely
little dress for the baby Krishna.
She threw herself into everything and her
enthusiasm was unhampered by our glowering Brahmin cook Rukma, who showed her vehement
disapproval at a Catholic touching the pooja. I loved Helen, her laughter, her
loving nature, her zest for life and her ability to respect and embrace all
religions.
I wish I
could live on Mark Twain’s recommendation “Sing like no one's listening, love
like you've never been hurt, dance like nobody's watching, and live like its
heaven on earth.” But before I begin, I must go and cook the Dum Aloos exactly
the way it was done 100 years ago!
Suman
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